Generation Xerox
by XBlack.BlazeX
Summary: In which Sarada had to suffer the similar experience of one of her Dad's past misfortunes. Our condolences, Sarada, our condolences.


**Title:** Generation Xerox

**Pairing:** An infinitesimal hint of BoruSara and somewhat, somehow, in a way, someway, sort of, to a limited extent... SasuNaru. Natch, both of them are mainly Played for Laughs. None is a Serious Business. Nope.

**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer:** All hail to Kishimoto Masashi.

**A/N:** Okay, okay. Don't tell me there's no one of you has ever thought about this. About the irony of Sarada Uchiha I mean. Well, at least SasuSaku's now Canon (tearsupinjoy) And btw, I have some sort of personal irrational dislike with people who call their parents Mama and Papa (Uh, no offense, this hatred is exclusively for fictional characters only. So, easy guys, easy) Especially for someone as brooding as Sarada. It just... doesn't sound right in my head.

* * *

><p>There is nothing wrong with the dining room, nothing really. As Sakura would list the intrinsic elements of this experience she'll later write in her little journal, and compare them to the prior days' and the day before the prior days' experiences. Nothing's really changed, you see. Only her and she, suppering, in the dining room with crickets chirping in the background, and nothing else. Not a sound from each other except the clinking dinnerwares.<p>

Not a sound from each other. Silence is golden, or so she says. Or so her daughter says. Yes...

Even though she's too used with this kind of atmosphere, every time she glances at the 12-years-old opposite her, she can't help but think that something is off. And the particularity happened earlier in the day only coalesces to her apprehension.

Late in the afternoon, unlike her usual after-school consultation with her mother, Sarada merely passed her without a single word—not a single word, that counts the absence of her usual 'Mom, I'm home' line. As she only knocked and made a beeline for her room without even responded to her mother's 'welcome'. And when dinner came, she'd expected her consultation to come this time. But yet her she is now, waiting, waiting, waiting and in the end, nothing. Nothing comes.

'What happened?' she wonders, aloud in her mind.

Sakura studies her daughter's profile as she washes the dishes in the sink, as she's somehow hoped, she notices that she's clenching her teeth, knotting her brows and is slightly pink. All for no reason.

There's no way there are no reasons.

"Alright," Sakura sighs, trying to stop her daughter from stepping out of the kitchen, "what is it."

Sarada ceases in her track, arching an eyebrow, and stares suspiciously towards her mother, "What?"

"What is it," Sakura repeats, crossing her arms, "that is getting your back up?"

And for a split second, Sarada looks as if she's getting caught red-handed. But the shock on her face quickly goes out as it's just come.

"Nothing's getting my back up, mom," she retorts calmly, and involuntarily clenches her fist as she looks at her mom's unpersuaded countenance. Chest tight.

"It's nothing," she repeats, harder than last time, "nothing really..."

"Nothing," Sakura mimes, stooping down to Sarada's level to look at her eyes, which the latter averts, "Something." She points towards the girl's face. "it's written all over here, Sarada. It clearly doesn't say 'nothing'"

Sarada gnashes her teeth. Then sighs, succumbing. After all the chit-chats she had with her mother. There are really no secrets she can keep around her. Because she's nothing short of her living, anthropomorphic, private journal.

"Okay. Alright. There's something," she confesses. Pained and tired and bored. It has been a really long day and things happened. From something mundanely boring to distressingly mortifying to mind-rapingly excruciating. Oh, how she wants this horrid day to end, soon, for two minutes to come or a minute to come or even less. She just wants it to end so she can just lay in her bed and dream and wake up with mind afresh, devoid of any disturbing reminiscences.

Sakura smiles, pleased. She picks her daughter's arm and leads her back to the dining table. Beckoning her to sit which she does half-heartedly.

"'kay, let me guess," Sakura says, like for the hundred times she's guessed her daughter's problems, "It's him again? Am I right?"

Sarada snorts at the reference. Revolted by the thought. Then nods painfully.

Sakura can't help but chuckle. It has always been about that boy and that boy and that boy again. She actually feels kind of sick about it. It's like she knows there's something between this child of hers and the residence's so-called prankster Boruto Uzumaki. There had just to be something, yet that 'something' is all but smoke. Wether they're merely classmates or teammates or friends or something more is ambiguous. And Sarada has always been as unspecific as she can regarding their relationship.

Sakura tilts her head to the side as she speaks, "So, what happened this time?"

The young kunoichi grimaces before sighing again, "well..." she flutters in her seat, fingers twiddling and face heating, "...everything was...nothing unusual..." Sarada clenches her teeth for a moment.

"Yes?" The woman probes.

"...Well...Everything was like usual. Mundane, boring classroom packed with noisy people. Like usual, all fooled around before the teacher came. Like usual, he horsed around more than everyone else. Like usual, I just sat alone quietly there. Watching all do this and that as I mentally asking the days why they're always the same. And then..."

She pauses, and jaws her bottom lip.

"And then...?"

It's on the tip of her tongue, but inner Sarada fights, 'NO! NO! NO! DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! DON'T SAY IT! JUST NO! NO! NO! NO!'

"He..." Sarada chokes, her mouth is a door without a lubricant on its rusty hinge.

'Lie! Lie! Lie! Lie! Lie! Just lie! Lying always solves everything!' Inner Sarada shouts.

"—He..."

"He...?"

"—He..."

'He found out that every substance has a certain density, and ran around the village screaming 'Eureka! Eureka! Eureka! Eureka! without his pants on!'

My condolences inner Sarada. Likewise, Sarada's deeply sorry for this.

"...He just somehow got on top of my desk and we got into some kind of a glaring contest and..."

Sakura stares wide-eyed.

And Sarada finds it's too late to turn back.

"And..."

"..."

"And—"

"... Shikadai... toppled him... over?" Sakura finishes, and Sarada can't help but stares at her mother in disbelieve.

"...How—"

"...And then...you two...?" Sakura makes a gesture with her hands, and Sarada winces.

It takes only a matter of seconds before the seal on Sakura's lips breaks and she is instantly (Oh, crap) engulfed in a loud, exuberant, hyena-like guffaw. Sides splitting and 'HOW' is it not withering for her only witness at the moment.

"Haha. Very unfunny."

"Hahahaha, Yes, unfunny," Sakura says in between laughs and gasps, right fist banging the table and left hand clutching at her sides, "But HI-LA-RI-OUS! AHAHAHAHAH!"

"This is ludicrous," Sarada sighs, facepalming, feeling her skin burning beneath her palm.

Congratulations, Mom, you are now officially execrated by your one and only female descendant. Well done, well done.

"How did you know anyway?" Sarada asks unwillingly. She actually wishes she's gone to her room already. Not lenghtening this already hellishly long exchange.

"Be-because..." Sakura tries, still laughing, "Your father...your father had done something like that too...long ago." She buries her face in her arm, her laughter has reached its unrestrained level. Oh my.

So that kind of thing _does_ exist, huh.

"...Lemme guess. It was with _him_ again, am I right?" Sarada scorns, face contorts at the picture in her mind. Gross.

"Good in one! How'd you know?" Sakura asks, like a retard, Sarada thinks. The brunette merely scrunches her face. Ugh, this conversation only gets repulsing as the time goes on. Go hit the hay already, can I?

"Figure it yourself. No explanation," Sarada snarks, leaning against her hand, "Generation Xerox, I guess, I have to blame this thing."

Sakura gives one last chuckle before smiling, broadly. Sarada regrets to have stolen a glance at her because she feels like losing three of four her energy just by looking at how much peps are being shot by that otherworldly, wide, wide smile.

"Generation...what?" Sakura tilts her head and her daughter sighs.

"Let's just say this man once fell into a hole full of crap and got stuck for an hour. Years later, he got a kid and that kid fell into a hole full of crap and got stuck for an hour. Following his dad's crappy steps."

"So you meant that it's som—"

"Yes, yes. Exactly." she snaps, too tired to actually hear anymore overly long explanation. It should've been like this; School=School, Home≠School. Enough said.

"I've said it before. Me and Boruto just have so—unfortunately—much in common. So, even more, do us with our fathers. And I just hope that our in commonness with them won't be ten times unfortunate." She involuntarily tugs her bangs to the front of her eyes, "Ugh."

Sakura stills at this. Ten times unfortunate, ten times unfortunate. No, no, no. She hopes not. Not at all. Not even two times. Not even anywhere near that.

"Uh, pardon. What did you say about Generation Xerox earlier?" She asks. And Sarada's aware of the slight anxiety in her voice.

"Jeez, you heard me," she sighs, now pillowing her head with her arms, fringe a makeshift sleep mask, "I just hope dad doesn't have anymore crappy steps I have to follow ahead." And with that, she's replaced with light snores and soft breaths and a sleeping body. Sakura stares at her dormant companion, still as a statue.

"...I hope...so too."


End file.
